“I was outside when it started,” Lord Jordan offered. Marjorie held up the candle again, shining the light on him. He smiled and nodded at her. She felt a flutter in her stomach. It must have been from running to get to the cellar. “One of the guards on the wall shouted that he saw torches in the distance and almost immediately after that, all hell broke loose. Uh, sorry, Father.”
“So the torches in the distance must have been a distraction, to think we had time to prepare. How could they have gotten so close to us without anyone seeing?”
“Could we have been betrayed by Lord Drayton?” Fay asked with a glance at Marjorie.
“Certainly not,” Anne said. “What a thing to say.”
Marjorie was glad she hadn’t offered up that opinion when she heard Anne’s sharp defense of him. She found her tiredness was coming back now that the initial furor in getting safely hidden had died down. She leaned her head against Batty’s shoulder and listened to the others mildly arguing about the battle. They’d know who attacked them when Sir Walter and his men were victorious. Of that, she had no doubt. Sir Walter was the greatest knight in the land.
Father Thomas finally got his way and began droning out a prayer, which promptly put her to sleep.
*
Jordan wasn’t happy being down in that hole with the priest and the ladies. He’d wanted to get out there and see some real life medieval action. Leo had said he would be a welcome help and promised Sophie he’d keep an eye on him. Then Sophie had thrown a tantrum, tearfully foretelling his sure to be gruesome death by beheading or cannon blast to the gut.
“Sophie, there’s certainly no cannon. The men on the wall would have seen them hauling it long before it could get close enough to do any harm.”
“I don’t care. He’s coming with me. He’s not fit for your kind of battle. He doesn’t know anything about this life!”
It still stung. And then Batty, of all people, had attacked his manhood. Thankfully, Anne had shut her down. He noticed Marjorie had fallen asleep at least an hour ago, and the priest’s singsong prayers were making him feel sleepy as well. A huge coughing fit from Anne made his head snap up in a hurry. It also woke Marjorie, who tearfully rushed to her side, kneeling on the cold dirt floor in front of her.
“When will this battle end?” she asked, wiping her face. Jordan suspected the tears had started while she was still asleep. A bad dream? “It’s too cold and the air is full of bad humors down here,” Marjorie continued. “Didn’t anyone think to bring something to drink?”
Jordan snapped to at that and felt stupid for not helping sooner. “Here’s a flask of wine I grabbed off the table,” he said. Marjorie took it as soon as he held it out. Anne managed a few sips and then keeled forward, caught in the throes of a fresh bout of coughing.
Marjorie gave him a dirty look as if it were his fault and whacked her mistress’ back, trying to clear whatever gunk was attempting to drown her.
“I have medicine,” he whispered to Sophie. Even in the dark cellar he could see her eyes fill with hope.
“You do?” she whispered back. She stood up and went to the other side of the room, making a big show of rubbing her back. He got up and paced back and forth beside her. Just two cowards stretching their legs. Well, he was the only coward. She had her gender as an excuse. “What kind of medicine?” she asked eagerly as they passed each other in the close confines.
“All kinds. Aspirin, ibuprofen, acetaminophen, cold and flu remedies, a couple z-packs, some plain old penicillin, allergy meds, I’ve got an epinephrine shot …” he trailed off, sure he was forgetting something. “I have a lot.”
“How did you get all that? I mean the prescription ones?”
“I went to a bunch of doctors and pretended to be sick. And I called Harriet and pretended to have the clap to get one of the strong antibiotics. I really took one for the team on that one, since you know she told Uncle Billy, who probably told Mom.” He stopped, remembering their whole family thought he was dead. His uncle’s girlfriend wouldn’t be gossiping about his supposed STDs.
She frowned, most likely thinking the same thing. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
He shrugged, once again passing her and turning in a tight circle to face her again. “Neither of us was sick. I brought it for us. But I mean, I’m not going to be stingy or anything if you want to try it on Anne. We should be careful, though. Who knows how our strong medicine will affect these people who sip herb teas when they’re sick.”
“They don’t even do that,” Sophie whispered anxiously. “It’s worth a shot, she’s dead either way.”
“What the hell?” he hissed, stopping in his tracks.
“That’s part of the curse.” Sophie nodded over at Anne, who was slightly recovered, but still coughing erratically and pulling at the neckline of her dress. “She keeps dying. We want to try to save her, and maybe we can now that we have real medicine. Leo knows a lot about ancient Asian remedies, but they didn’t work last time.”
“Yeah, it’s probably worth a try, but you know antibiotics can’t treat cancer or lung disease. We don’t know what she’s got.”
Before Sophie could answer, the trap door above them creaked open. “It’s all over,” a voice called down.
A second later, Roric stuck his head around the curving stairs, a big cut over his eye and an even bigger grin on his face. Of course it had to be old Roric, to showcase how truly cowardly Jordan had been. He could feel Batty’s scornful eyes burning into him as she passed him to get to the stairs. He waited until everyone was up before ascending. That was the very least he could do.
At the top, he was surprised to see Marjorie waiting by the lectern. She twisted the ends of her shawl and jumped out, blocking his way. He looked around for Sophie but she was long gone, off to make sure Leo was all right.
“I heard you tell Lady Sophie you have medicines,” she accused. Oh, crap. She stared at him unblinking while he tried to come up with something to say. “Are they from Italy?”
Oh, thank God. He nodded gratefully. “Yes, there have been great advancements in Italy that haven’t made it here to England. Unfortunately.” Shut up, Jordan.
She dipped her head and then looked up at him so beseechingly with her incredibly beautiful eyes. “I beg you to help Lady Anne. She’s been ill with coughing and fevers most of her life. Our physician, Edgar, sometimes can ease her suffering, but she’s never truly been healed. If you think your medicine can help her, I beg you …”
She might have gone on begging until the sun rose, so he held up his hand. “Marjorie. Of course. I brought the strong and advanced medicine from Italy as a gift to Sir Walter.” In for a penny, in for a pound, he continued babbling. “As you know, I’m currently without a position as, uh, chancellor, yes, chancellor. I was hoping Sir Walter would look kindly on me.”
Why hadn’t the earth swallowed him up yet? He had no idea. Miraculously, Marjorie didn’t see right through his extremely poor acting. She bobbed on her toes and smiled a smile that zapped through him as if he’d touched a live wire. They didn’t even have electricity yet but it was radiating off of Marjorie.
“Thank you, Lord Jordan, thank you.” She curtsied and ran from the chapel.
He sat down on the nearest pew and closed his eyes. It was clear she loved Anne. Clear she cared for everyone in the castle as far as he’d seen. If she had set the curse, why? Why would she doom everyone she knew and loved?
As much as he didn’t want to call up Lyra again and make Marjorie her puppet, he had to have answers. No matter what Lyra said about it not being her curse, she’d been there. She’d made it happen with her dark powers. The wicked witch had the answers he wanted, and he was going to get them.
Chapter 12
Jordan was a prisoner. No one would let him out of their sights longer than it took him to use a garderobe. His sister, Fay, Tristan, and even Batty gave him dirty looks at every opportunity. Amazingly, the only people who were being the least bit kind to him were
Leo and Marjorie. Not that they were going out of their way or anything. They just spared him the filthy looks and eye rolls.
Everyone was on edge because of the attack. It had apparently been a very close call. No one from the castle or Lord Drayton’s party had been killed but there were a few serious injuries. Seeing the moaning men getting cleaned and stitched in the great hall made Jordan glad Sophie had pitched her fit that had let him avoid the carnage.
No one knew who had attacked them. They had come in, wreaked havoc, and then disappeared like ghosts. Several knights had chased them across the countryside but had lost their trail. The men seemed to believe they may have actually been ghosts, insisting their trail had just stopped. They’d searched the nearby houses, but not a hoof mark or boot print could be found out of place.
“They weren’t ghosts,” Tristan repeated, rubbing his arm that had been slashed nearly clean through. Or so it had looked to Jordan when they first brought him in from the battle. The knight didn’t seem overly bothered by it.
Fay gently took his hand away from his bandage so he wouldn’t accidentally scratch his stitches out. “Do you think it was the same group that’s been plaguing Dernier the last few times?”
From what Jordan could make out from his forced listening sessions, a group of marauders had been attacking Dernier Keep at the beginning of each “curse cycle” as they had taken to calling it. This time was different. Grancourt Castle had been attacked. But the marauders’ modus operandi remained the same. Get in, create havoc, disappear.
“I admit I thought you were being paranoid last time,” Leo said. “But now I also believe someone is helping them. Someone of power, or a large group.”
“I still don’t believe anyone around here would betray Father,” Fay said.
Since she’d been there the longest of any of them, she was the most ingrained in believing she was really part of castle life, as if she’d grown up there and actually knew the villagers and surrounding landowners. Sophie set her right, saying it could be anyone and they needed to keep an open mind.
“And you really need to speak to Sir Walter,” Sophie said, nudging Leo. “The last time Lord Drayton came, he proposed to Anne, remember? We need to stake our claim first or we’ll have to delay the wedding even more.” She pointed to Jordan with her thumb. “We need to get this one a date. And, of course, I really want to marry you.”
Jordan turned his head while they kissed. He no longer found it strange that his sister had fallen in love with a scarred, battle-weary knight who was thirteen years older than her. Leo was a good guy. But he still found it a bit distasteful when they hung all over each other. She was still his little sister, after all.
“Ugh, Lord Drayton.” Fay made a gagging noise. “I can’t stand that weasel.
“We have to give him the benefit of the doubt,” Sophie insisted. “I get he was a bit unsavory your first time, but things can change, and you know he has no memory of what he did before.”
“And he and his men fought valiantly alongside us during the attack,” Leo said. “If he is a bad man still, we have no proof and must give him the benefit of the doubt as Sophie said.”
Fay turned up her nose, refusing to be swayed. It was clear she still hated Lord Drayton, and Jordan wondered what unsavory thing he did during Fay’s first round with the curse. He wouldn’t stoop to asking, though. He had enough of his own to be curious about. All things he was positive Lyra could answer if he could summon her. She was stubborn and nasty but he’d be more stubborn and more nasty if he had to be. He had a feeling she was bound to him somehow. Perhaps by the promise she had made to get him back to his proper time. Whatever it was, he was going to capitalize on it and squeeze her for every drop of information he could. If he could get away from his jailers.
He finally got his chance when Leo went to ask Sir Walter for Sophie’s hand in marriage. Sophie was so giddy and excited she followed him so she could wait outside Sir Walter’s door and listen in. Fay got called away by Catherine, the stable master’s wife. For whatever reason, Fay was skittish where Catherine was concerned and ran to her side at the drop of a hat. Tristan was the easiest one, because he seemed to forget about the curse when Fay wasn’t around to remind him. He only knew he had to keep Jordan from being alone, but if Jordan could catch him at the right time, he might be hazy on why.
“I can see you want to get out there and join the others on the training field,” Jordan said. He and Tristan were sitting on a bench outside the kitchen, casually enjoying the smell of bread baking. “Sophie was just in the kitchen a minute ago. I could help her so you can be rid of me.”
Tristan gave him a long look. “Fay will kill me if any harm comes to you. You’re apparently quite important.”
Jordan laughed heartily. “Women! Am I right? Such worriers.” Jordan crossed his arms and clapped his shoulders. “Look at me.”
“I think you appear strong, it’s true. I heard from Sophie’s maid you don’t believe in fighting?”
“What can I say? It’s the way I was raised.”
“You’ve never had the occasion to have to defend yourself?” he asked skeptically.
Jordan shrugged. “Well, you recall I traveled with Sir Leo as Lord Benetto’s chancellor. With Sir Leo and his men around, I never had to.”
Please let it take. He needed to trick Tristan into only remembering the made-up story of his existence at the castle. If he could make him forget he was Sophie’s real brother from the future and the key to breaking the curse, he might have a shot at a few precious minutes alone.
“Ah, yes. Sir Leo’s reputation definitely precedes him.” Tristan looked longingly at the training field.
“I’m certain you’ll be the same,” Jordan said, his face burning. “With practice.” He closed his eyes, expecting to get hit for being so obvious, but Tristan was already several feet away from him. “I shall see you at supper, Lord Jordan,” he called over his shoulder.
Sophie was going to murder him. Then Fay was going to kick his corpse. He cackled under his breath as he made his way stealthily to the nearest way out. As he ran toward the forest, he laughed out loud. Freedom made the crisp air smell sweet and the sky appear bluer than ever. The only thing that slowed his feet and dampened his triumphant mood was the thought of Marjorie being used again by Lyra.
“Lyra, I summon you to keep your promise,” he boomed.
He was deep in the forest and the same stillness surrounded him. He sat down and leaned against a tree trunk, picking at the leaf rot while he waited. He still buzzed with confidence from scamming Tristan and knew she’d turn up eventually. He waited what seemed like an hour and his confidence wavered. He’d really wanted to get back to the castle and make it seem like he’d been watching Tristan and the other knights all along. Now, he only wanted to decrease the amount of berating he’d get because he was sure they’d noticed his absence by now.
“It will be worth it if I get answers,” he said, then hollered for Lyra again. He heard scuffling from somewhat close by and pumped his fist. “Yes, finally,” he called.
He took a few steps and heard crying. No, it was more like desperate, anguished sobs. They seemed to engulf him, coming from every direction at once. He turned in a circle, trying to get his bearing, finally crashing toward where he was certain the sound was coming. Or he hoped it was the right direction. The only thing he was certain of was that the desolate cries were not coming from Lyra.
*
Marjorie opened her eyes to see she was surrounded by dense trees. How did she get here? She was standing, her foot raised to take a step, so she must have come of her own volition. But she had no memory of it. For a brief moment, she couldn’t remember anything.
This is a dream. A bad dream.
She pinched both arms but everything remained the same. She dropped to the ground in a crouch and wracked her mind to remember. She’d been in the kitchen. Yes. Telling off one of the boys for waking Anne after she’d expressly told them to s
tay away. The lad had only been following the cook’s order to bring her some food, but Marjorie wasn’t having his excuses. Then what? If she’d been in the kitchen, that meant she hadn’t been asleep at all. It wasn’t a dream.
Terror as she’d never felt before overtook her and she rolled into a ball. Something was wrong with her. Tears rolled down her face and soon she was crying uncontrollably. She was going mad. Soon, she’d be a drooling, raving madwoman who had to be locked up. She’d die that way, alone, not knowing where or who she was. But why? Hadn’t she always tried to be good? She went to chapel more than any of the others except, perhaps, Anne.
“Hey.”
She stopped crying abruptly, hearing a voice. Not voices inside her head. She couldn’t stand that. A human voice nearby.
“Marjorie, it’s me. Er, Lord Jordan.”
She pulled herself out of her curled up position and saw it was really him. He looked at her with concern.
“I—I don’t know how I got here,” she confessed.
She was exhausted. Perhaps from the trek this far into the woods, perhaps from her growing madness. The nightmares barely let her sleep anymore. She couldn’t have made up a feasible story for why she was weeping out there if she tried.
“Yes, I know,” he said.
“How do you know?” she demanded, sitting up. Her hands were dirty from clutching at the ground while she wept, so she wiped her face with her sleeve.
“I mean, I figured as much,” he said, his face turning red.
For some reason, the fact that he was somewhat uncomfortable comforted her. He was a safe distance and made no move closer to her. And his eyes were kind and full of pity. Normally, she hated pity but thought she deserved some right then. More tears leaked out of her eyes.
“I must be going mad. The nightmares, now this.”
“You’re not going mad, I guarantee that,” he said firmly. “I can’t account for your nightmares. But being out here isn’t your fault and it isn’t because you’re losing your mind.”
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